


Nox's Drabbles

by Nekhs



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brawl - Freeform, F/M, Fistfight, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Racism, Teasing, Thief, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, eventually, this bit's in windhelm that's basically a given
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekhs/pseuds/Nekhs
Summary: To include various drabbles associated with my other work, 'Nox and the Vampire Hunt.'
Relationships: Female Bosmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Lucien Flavius, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lucien Flavius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Nox and the Interrupted Bath

**Author's Note:**

> Funfact, but I picked the name 'Nox' for this Bosmer because it was one of the voiced names. No association with any other 'Nox'es out there.
> 
> She picked it, in-character-wise, because it sounded perfectly intimidating for a thief.

Nox grinned at Lucien's dumbfounded expression. 

Okay, so it had been a set-up. He had been adorably flustered by the mere implication that he had been trying to hit on her, and she wanted to see his reaction.

She continued wringing out her braid, putting on an innocent face. "Khajiit got'cher tongue?"

"I - that is - you have some wonderfully intricate tattoos, Nox - are those dots glowing?" He regained his composure quickly enough, bless him, and sure enough, his gaze was transfixed not by her nudity itself, but by her left arm. 

She had forgotten that, until now, he hadn't actually seen her ink: thanks to Skyrim's bitter cold, she'd kept herself bundled up in thick furs from head to toe.

"Ah, yeah, got 'em did after me and the gang - well, after we hit it big one day, let's say."

That job had actually been an honest one, even: the Ayleid ruins around the Imperial City weren't any younger, nor any less ruined, for the Thalmor's occupation. A desperate enough gang of tomb-robbers could make a decent haul off of old Welkynd stones and other artifacts - if they could find a buyer.

"May I have a look? At the tattoos, I mean, obviously, that is - "

She grinned again, playfully. "If I cared about you lookin' at aught else, I wouldn't've called you over in the first place, love." His blush spread from his cheeks to his ears, and down his throat. He really was cute when he flustered. "But aye, you can look at my ink, too, if y'like."

"Ah - thank you - " He knelt down, stripping off his boots and rolling up his pants, so that when he waded into the water, only his skin got wet. Practical, that. "Is that a knife you've got wound up in your hair?"

She blinked, owlishly, inspecting the thin knife - and the other, littler tools - that she was weaving into her long braid. "Aye, part of my emergency kit. Knife's mostly for being long and thin, see - " She wrapped the trailing end of her braid around her shoulders, hopefully to hold her place in the work, as she extricated the lone pick that accompanied the blade. "This bit goes into a lock, and this long, thin bit, that's for pushing up the tumblers, see? In case of emergencies, or if I get caught out without the rest of my kit."

"I learn something new every day," he murmured, sounding fascinated. "So it's not like the stories; you can't just bend a hair pin into shape?"

She laughed, at that. "Oh, sure, you can improvise like that if you hafta, but it sucks, and I had the extra coin to get this set made special, so why not?"

"I see. Oh! The smokey bits, in your tattoos - they're moving, aren't they?"

Nox glanced down. "I should hope so, I paid good money for all that flash. It's - from what I'm understanding, it's alteration magic, to set in the stars, like, little magic lights that should ought to stay alight so long as I'm still around, and the smoke moves on its own." She traced a fingertip across her skin, and the lines of 'smoke' swirled under her touch. "Mostly."

"That's fascinating! The kind of magic that entails …."

He went on like that for a bit, but it kind of went right over her head. Still, it was nice, hearing him act so interested in something of hers - especially something she had chosen, rather than the crude 'compliments' she so often received. So, she made all the appropriate noises to indicate she was still listening.

Maybe she even picked up a bit about magic, but nothing she could properly articulate. 


	2. Nox and the Abandoned Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox and Lucien find a secret study.

Sometimes - only sometimes - Lady Luck deigned to smile upon Nox. Her pick slotted into place just so, and the conspicuously locked wardrobe popped open.

The fake back was obvious - the tripwire after, less so.

Still, she spotted the trap for what it was, slicing the wire cleanly with her boot knife. 

The false backing snapped shut. The wardrobe doors slammed back into place. Startled, she fell back onto her ass.

A low roar emitted from the trap, and the heat rolled off the wardrobe in waves. The flames inside would have been enough to kill anyone, but a vampire wouldn't have stood a chance against them. 

'Unique talents,' indeed - whoever had sent that letter just wanted an expendable pawn!

(Granted, Nox hadn't even been singed. Maybe they had a point, but given how close she had come to missing the trap entirely, she wasn't feeling so generous.)

"Who did you say sent that letter?" Lucien sounded as alarmed as she felt. 

Still, she gritted her teeth and pried the charred wardrobe back open. "I didn't."

Beyond the heavy metal grating, a relatively simple den lay abandoned in the sort of orderly disarray customary of a researcher who needed absolutely everything in their workplace to be close at hand. Dozens of notes, thick tomes, and heavy bottles of nameless, viscous fluid cluttered the desk, as well as the shelving above it.

It almost seemed like a normal study, until she noticed the cramped cage standing, forgotten, in the far corner of the room. Inside, a single man rested, hollow-eyed, against the bars, old bite marks showing dull red against his tired, pale skin. "Who …?"

"Are you okay?" She rushed to the cage, inspecting the man. He looked sickly, weary, worn. His broken, thousand-yard stare unnerved her, a bit, but she tried not to let her discomfort show.

For a moment, it seemed like he might form a coherent response, but no. "Not the Master."

"They're always like this," she explained to Lucien, as she tickled open the lock. "Some act more aware, just - all the way infatuated with their owners. Folk like this fellow still have half a chance to figure out who they were - but they'll fight if you make them break their orders."

He frowned. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Not that I've found," she replied, grimly. "Best case, he comes to his senses and the cage is open, so he can just walk on out." She brought up her right hand, pantomiming a pair of legs walking. "Worst case, he ends up dead."

Lucien peered through the bars at the thrall, as she turned away, satisfied she'd done what she could. "So - do you mean to just leave him here? That seems awfully callous …"

"If you want to try and convince him to leave, that's your choice." She plucked a mace from where it rested, languishing in a pile of shattered soul gems on the desk. Almost as quickly as she seized the weapon, she dropped it. Something in the tainted metal made her skin crawl. Carefully, she wrapped the hilt in cloth, then tried again.

It still felt slimy, but - less so.

Behind her, Lucien yelped. "He bit me!"

"Told you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nox's favored 'deity' is Lady Luck. When she eventually figures out that means she's been worshipping a Daedra this entire time, she's just going to be amused, tbh.


	3. Nox and the Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a face is remade.

"Maybe we should pay you a visit tonight, little spy." The nord leered at the dunmer, and Nox saw red for just a moment. A cold sort of rage settled into her gut. "We've got ways of finding out what you really are."

The implied threat turned that initial chill to hard ice.

Before she really consciously knew what she was doing, Nox found herself in between the littler of the two nords and the dark elf, shielding the woman bodily as she cracked her knuckles. Something inside her stirred at the prospect of violence, but unless she wanted to serve prison time, there was a custom to obey. 

"I don't like your attitude," she said, with a smile nearly as frigid as the cold air around them. "A hundred septims, and you eat your words when you lose."

The man eyed her up and down, then glanced behind her, toward the dark elf - and further still, to her friends. "A hundred septims," he agreed. "Fists only. Let's go."

By the time he said 'go,' she'd already launched forward, slamming a fist into his gut.

It wasn't so much a brawl as an excuse, and he lost at least one tooth in the ensuing beat-down, never managing to land any solid hits of his own.

Nox didn't tend to fight with her rage. It wasn't good for an archer to be emotional, and her kills were mostly dispassionate things. 

Lydia was the one to pull Nox away from her victim.

The bloody pulp of his face was barely recognizable for the bruises. His friend wheezed with the effort of helping him sit upright.

Nox held out her bloodspattered hand. "My gold, _nord."_

"Yeah," he muttered, bitterly. He spat blood to one side, and part of a tooth went with. "Here, _elf."_

The pouch of coins settled into her palm, and she smiled, grimly.

Ultimately, it wouldn't change anything, except the shape of the man's face. It was still satisfying to watch him limp away, leaning heavily on his friend. 

"You didn't fix anything, you know," the dark elf said quietly. "He'll blame us for this."

Nox sighed, softly. "Yeah, I know all that," she replied. "But while he's laid up with his ribs cracked, he ain't working, and he ain't causing trouble. Murder ain't legal in Skyrim, but these nords love themselves a good brawl."

Truth told, a part of her soul had come to crave violence, too. Maybe she ought to keep track of that. 

Probably, she ought to keep track of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the dragon blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my other works, if you like, and hit me up on various social media @Nekhs


End file.
